If it's important to me, and I'm important to them, shouldn't it be important to them, too? + Should? What's should? What has should ever gotten anyone? + I'm so disappointed. I'm angry. I want to lock the door. I want to take my ball and go home. + Well, you could do that. Would that make you happy? + No. I don't know. Maybe a little. Ultimately no. + You let expectation get the best of you again. + Yes. + Expectation is a balloon waiting to be popped by reality. You can have a hundred of them, tie them together and float away on the levity of what they promise. But eventually they'll give out. They'll burst, or fizzle and deflate, and you'll hit the ground with a thud. + So what do I do? What do I do with these feelings? + Tell them. Ask them to ask themselves how they'd feel. Then let it go. It's just a balloon.

Quick Chaucy update. We're about halfway through his initial treatment with Adequan and unfortunately, I'm not seeing any improvement in his limping. That could just mean it hasn't kicked in yet, but it could also mean he's unresponsive to Adequan for whatever reason. Or it could mean that the limp isn't actually arthritis, but caused by some kind of nerve compression in his spine, like if one of his vertebrae got hurt. The vet had mentioned this as a possibility, but an outside one she wanted to explore last. It would also be a pretty major situation. More x-rays and ultimately, surgery to fix it.

So, that's where things stand with the pup. He still doesn't seem to have too much awareness that anything's wrong. Still down for his usual walk, if taking it a little slower. Still playful and loving and cuddly as ever. In fact if anything he's gotten more friendly and sweet, especially with strangers. It's to the point now where he rarely passes someone standing on the sidewalk that he doesn't want to greet and sniff with a hello and sometimes a lick, if they're willing. He's a love and a half.

Oh and I meant to post this picture a few weeks back. The golden was also nine, a girl with hip problems who could barely walk herself. They were flirting so bad, looking at one another, looking away, looking back:

That's right Chaucer. Play hard to get with the gorgeous blonde who's looking right at you.

And here's a bit of awesomeness - at the end of this week, my friend Bill from Georgia (lives on the lake, I've visited him a couple times now) is driving through LA with his granddaughter and great-grandson on their way to SF. They've just only got time to stop for a few hours, but we're going to meet for lunch downtown, at the very cafeteria (now a hip cafeteria/bar) where Bill used to go as a kid, when he lived in Boyle Heights some seven decades ago.

And the best part is, since they're coming downtown, Bill will get to meet Chaucer, whom he's been reading and hearing about and loving from afar for almost three years now. Don't know how my heart's gonna handle that moment, but okay!